


It Knew Nothing but My Love for You

by lavenderlotion



Series: Teen Wolf 'Cest Appreciation Week [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sheriff Stilinski, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Worship, Come Eating, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feral Behavior, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Naked Cuddling, Napping, Pining, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rutting, Scenting, Sexual Frustration, Sheriff Stilinski is Bitten, Showers, Spooning, Werewolf Sheriff Stilinski, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 06:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18255656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Stiles’ eyes tracked down Dad’s body, looking for injuries, only for him to let out a noise of shock when his eyes crossed the decapitated head that his father was holding in a hand that was tipped with claws.





	It Knew Nothing but My Love for You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Teen Wolf 'Cest Week 2019! 
> 
> I’ve had this idea for a while, and I’m really, really happy that I finally wrote it. I ended up really liking the end result, and I had a super fun time working on this fic! 
> 
> beta'd by the amazing [AuguriesofInnocence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence)!

By the time Stiles stumbled into the clearing, his heart was beating so fast it hurt and his eyes were stinging with tears. The moon was standing full in the sky, lighting up the forest’s clearing just enough that Stiles could see the way his dad’s shoulders were heaving in breaths of air. The tightness in his chest lessened, just a fraction, and he brought himself to a stop only a few steps from the tree line. 

For a single moment that felt like forever, there was nothing but Stiles and his Dad. 

In the next instant, the pack exploded from the forest's edge from where they’d tracked them both by scent. Stiles’ phone was still in his hand, and his fingers ached from gripping it far too tightly. The screen had dimmed, but the image of the flickering red tracker was into Stiles’ brain and he saw it with every blink. 

_ Fuck _ , Stiles thought, the tears he had been holding back making everything so much harder to see.  _ Fucking fuckity fuck _ . Dad shouldn’t even be here. Stiles had told him to stay inside, that he and the pack were handling it and everything would be fine. It was awesome having his dad know about the supernatural, and it was  _ amazing _ to no longer have a bed of lies weighing down their relationship, but by god, if his dad’s insistence that he be a part of everything wasn’t going to kill him.

Like tonight, when Stiles had been sure he knew where the rogue Alpha creeping around their territory was after tracking its movement for a few days. All Stiles had done was circle a part of the preserve— _ the part they were in right now _ —before he had headed out for the loft. He would never have thought that his dad would  _ go there _ , and he hadn’t even realized what was happening until Dad didn’t answer one of his texts.

Both of them had always been quick to reply, and they’d only gotten faster once everything was out in the open between them. Dad not answering him had been a red flag, and he’d paused at a stop light to pull up his dad’s location. His heart had climbed up into his throat when he saw the blinking dot moving through the preserve, and he had thrown the jeep into reverse as he sent out a text.

He couldn’t help but curse himself. It felt like his dad being here was his fault, but he tried to push blame to the side and focus on what was happening around him. The pack had settled into a semi-circle flanking him, none of them moving past where Stiles had stopped. Stiles appreciated it, drawing strength from knowing they were there for him. 

His scent must’ve been a thing of work with how many emotions he had warring inside his chest. He was terrified and he was guilty and he was pissed off; so angry that his left hand was shaking so badly he couldn't get it to stop. He had no idea what to do, and fear was making it impossible for him to move. 

With a shock, he noticed the body by his father’s feet. There was blood soaking into the grass, shining crimson in the light of the moon, and Stiles’ heart stopped beating. Not even the sight of his dad was enough to calm him, and a helpless little noise made its way out of his throat. 

Derek took a step forward, crossing the line Stiles seemed to have drawn. “Sheriff?” he asked with a voice that was tentative and soft; the type of tone one would use when talking to a frightened animal. It made anger well up in Stiles’ chest, but he held his breath along with everyone else. 

His dad took a breath that raised the line of his shoulders before he let it out, his head dropping down as he exhaled. Stiles’ entire body went tight, a line of tension that ached the longer he held it. He couldn't do anything more, not with the fear that was gripping him so tightly he couldn't even breathe.

Dad turned, so, so slowly, and Stiles’ breath rushed out of him when he saw the blood splattered across his face. Stiles’ eyes tracked down Dad’s body, looking for injuries, only for him to let out a noise of shock when his eyes crossed the decapitated  _ head _ that his father was holding in a hand that was tipped with claws. 

Even though Stiles knew he should stay back, he stumbled a step forward, tripping over his own feet. Someone, Scott, reached out for him, his hand curling around Stiles’ bicep to keep him steady and pull him back. Before Stiles had even gotten his footing, a growl sounded out so loudly that it shook through Stiles’ entire body. 

Dad dropped the head he was holding, and Stiles barely paid it a glance before he was shaking off Scott's arm to rush forward. The growling tapered off as Stiles got closer until all that he could hear were his thunderous footfalls in the otherwise silent clearing. Time seemed to stand still as he got closer, each step feeling like it took a lifetime to pass. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. 

By the time Stiles was within arms reach, his heart had calmed down to its regular irregular beat. He pocketed his phone with his shaking hand, all of his attention focused on his dad and the tight line of his shoulders. Knowing that his dad was okay had relief rushing through him, so strong that his knees almost gave out.

“Dad,” he whispered. His heart climbed up his throat and choked his voice. Another growl, softer and far less hostile, sounded from his dad’s chest and Stiles’ heart kicked right back up. 

Stiles stepped closer, close enough to touch, and Dad’s eyes flared blood red. Stiles let out a gasp, ignoring the shout of his name from the pack, and stepping closer. He knew that Dad would  _ never _ hurt him, and it was that certainty that gave him the confidence to step even closer. 

“Alpha,” Stiles said quietly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He ignored the pack behind him, knowing in every part of himself that this was  _ right _ . Scott never was and would never be his Alpha, but submitting to his dad felt nothing other than natural. 

He bared his throat, giving himself over, and a thrill shot down his spine when Dad crowded closer. Dad’s hands were gentle when they cupped his hips, fingers tipped with claws that Stiles could feel through the thin material of his t-shirt. Stiles shivered, goosebumps erupting from his skin, and he held in the whine that wanted to slip out of his throat. 

Dad leaned in closer and the stubble dusting his chin tickled Stiles’ throat. He tipped his head back further, his own hands wrapping around Dad’s wrists to give himself something to hold on to. It felt like he was going to fly apart when Dad rubbed his chin into the sensitive skin of Stiles’ neck, leaving behind his scent and making Stiles’ blood burn. 

Another very complicated set of emotions rushed through him, making his head spin. A lip caught on the skin of his neck and Stiles  _ whimpered _ , his knees going weak. Dad’s hold on his hips tightened as he pulled them closer together, and he started up a continuous rumble that sounded like a  _ purr _ . 

Stiles forced himself not to think about it. Instead, he tried to take a step back, his entire body going stiff as a set of fanged teeth closed over his throat incredibly gently. His heart rate kicked back up, and Scott once again shouted his name. Stiles tilted his head to the side, his nose brushing against his Dad’s temple, and he let out a breath that shuddered out of him. 

“Dad,” he said, nothing but an exhale of air. The teeth tightened, just a fraction, before Dad pulled away and  _ licked _ . “ _ Alpha _ .”

Dad only grumbled, the growl kicking up a notch as his hands slid around Stiles’ back. He tried to grab Stiles’ shirt, but his claws cut through the fabric and he whined. Stiles trailed his hands up his dad’s forearms until he could rest them on his shoulders. He did his best to rub away the tension he could feel, and Dad’s grip got looser as his purring got louder.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said, nosing at his Dad’s temple and breathing him in. “It’s okay, Alpha.”

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, as soon as Dad had quieted down. At the sound of Scott’s voice, he tensed all over again. “Dude, what are you doing, you’re going to get hurt!”

“I’m fine, Scott,” he called back, taking a deep breath and ignoring how it felt to be bodily pressed against his dad, their bodies touching from knees to shoulders without any space between them. Stiles tried to step back, but Dad’s hold only got tighter. “I don’t think he’s going to leave until you guys do.”

“Dude, no way—”

“Shut up, child,” Peter snapped, and Stiles didn’t even need to turn to the picture the scathing look he was sending Scott’s way. “Stiles is more than safe, he is right. He is the only one who will be able to get our dear Sheriff home, but not until we all leave.”

“But—”

“He’s right, Scott.” Derek’s tone was final, and Stiles knew that during the silence that followed Scott was pouting. “Stiles, text us once you’re home.”

Stiles made a noise of agreement, but he didn’t say anything. Dad’s face was still pressed into his neck, breath damp against his skin, and Stiles closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to ignore how it was making him feel. Dad’s hands were warm against the bare skin of his back, his fingers rough and calloused and tipped with claws that Stiles could barely feel. 

The way his dad was holding him made Stiles want to  _ cry _ . It was everything he’d never let himself want but dreamed of anyway. He felt horrible for enjoying the contact so much, for petting down the back of his dad’s hair and rubbing circles into the back of his neck, for brushing his nose against his temple and breathing him in. 

He felt horrible for how it was everything he’d ever wished for, to hold his dad like this and to be held by him in turn. And he felt horrible, because this  _ wasn’t _ his dad, not really. Not in the ways Stiles wanted. This was an Alpha werewolf, overrun with instinct and clinging to the only thing it knew. Stiles could hope, but hope had only ever caused him pain. 

Instead, he stood there and held his dad until he couldn't hear the pack, and then kept holding on until his dad finally calmed down enough that he pulled back. Dad’s eyes were a deep crimson, darker than Derek’s or Scott’s had ever been. They felt more powerful, and Stiles found himself leaning in without realizing it, drawn in by the power shining from them. 

Dad rumbled, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in deep drags of air. Stiles had no idea what he must be smelling, but he still blushed when he realized how close their faces were.  _ Get it together, he has no idea what’s going on _ Stiles told himself, bringing his hands away from where they’d been cupping Dad’s neck to grab his hands. 

“C’mon, Dad, let's get you home, okay?” Stiles said, taking a small step back and pulling Dad with him. Dad followed, thankfully, and Stiles slowly made his way across the clearing. 

Getting Dad to the jeep was a test of Stiles’ patience. Every time Stiles stepped more than a few inches away Dad would start to whine, and the one time Stiles let go of his hand Dad had growled so loud it shook through Stiles’ body. Halfway through the woods, Stiles gave in and let Dad plaster himself against his back, and they walked the rest of the way like that, coordinating their steps. 

Stiles had to focus to ignore the way Dad’s hips were pressed into his ass, how small and protected Stiles felt when Dad wrapped himself around him. It was amazing, but it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t  _ real _ . Even though it felt like everything Stiles wanted, he had to remind himself that his dad had no idea what was happening. 

If Stiles thought that getting Dad to the jeep was hard, getting Dad  _ into _ the jeep was next to impossible. He managed to get Dad into the passenger door and situated into the seat, but he wouldn’t sit forward. He was hanging out the side, holding Stiles in between his legs with his knees.

It took a few minutes of struggling and pleading before Stiles got his dad to sit forward, both legs securely inside the car. Buckling his dad in was  _ weird _ , and Stiles’ heart nearly stopped when Dad grabbed the back of his neck, holding him in place before he slid his hand down Stiles’ back, not stopping until it was resting over the swell of his ass. 

He leaned back with a shuddering breath, dislodging Dad’s hand as he stepped back. Before he was even able to reach for the door, Dad was whining and shooting an arm out to catch Stiles’ wrist. He tugged Stiles closer, and he stumbled forward into the side of the jeep. He winced, and Dad whined even louder. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Stiles said, soothing a hand down the side of his dad’s face. Dad nuzzled his palm, and Stiles was able to slip his other hand free.

Quickly he slammed the door shut before running to the other side. He all but jumped into the driver’s side, already whispering apologies as he reached out. Dad took his hand in both of his, pressing his face into Stiles’ palm and breathing in deeply. The growl that he’d started making tapered off and Stiles was able to get his keys out of his pocket and into the ignition with his left hand. 

“I need my hand,” Stiles said when Dad wouldn’t let it go. “C’mon, I just need to switch the gears.”

Dad grumbled, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he understood what he’d said until he used his knuckle to unlock his seatbelt. Before Stiles could say anything, Dad was shuffling over into the middle seat, pressing against Stiles’ side and burying his face back into Stiles’ neck. 

“Well, that works,” Stiles murmured, shifting the jeep into gear so he could finally start them on their drive home. 

A hand crept onto his thigh, and all Stiles could do was breathe through the arousal that flooded him. He covered it with his own to push it back down. As soon as Stiles lifted his hand, it crept back until Dad’s pinky was less than an inch away from his crotch.  _ Fucking fuck _ , Stiles thought, banging his head back into the headrest and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Okay. Okay, it’s fine. We’re fine. We’re just gonna drive, and get us home, and everything is going to be fine.” Stiles told himself, desperately hoping that the universe would hear him and do him a solid. 

A solid did not the universe give him. 

The entire drive home was a test in sexual frustration. As much as Stiles tried to stop it, his dad’s hand sitting so high on his thigh caused blood to pool in his dick. He was hard, and his only saving grace was that he’d dressed left. He had no idea  _ what _ would happen if his dad’s hand actually touched his erection, but it would probably be...messy.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway. Dad let him get out of the car, all of his attention focused on the house. Stiles wasn’t sure if he recognized it, but he seemed fixated. It allowed Stiles a much needed minute to calm down, and he rested his forehead against the cool metal of the jeep’s door as he took a few deep breaths. 

His dad came easily when Stiles got him out of the jeep. As soon as both of his feet were touching the ground, he plastered himself to Stiles’ back, though walking through the forest made it easy to shuffle the few steps to the front door. He got his keys into the lock as Dad’s hands crept under his t-shirt, and he was thankful for how late it was when he shuddered. 

Biting into his bottom lip, Stiles pushed the door open and hurried inside, fast enough that it dislodged Dad’s hands from where they had been dangerously close to his nipples. Stiles got the door closed behind him, not bothering with the light from the front entrance. In the low light, Stiles could see the way Dad was sniffing, inhaling loudly as his nostrils flared. 

The low light made the blood splattered over his dad’s face even darker, and fear shot through Stiles’ chest when he realized just how close he’d come to losing the man before him. He reached out but Dad was already there, shuffling closer and crowding Stiles against the wall. Stiles let him, his eyes burning with tears as his throat went tight

Dad pressed his face into Stiles’ neck with a high whine, nosing at the skin and dipping his tongue out. Stiles slid his hands up Dad’s back, grabbing hold of his shoulders and keeping them pressed close together. He was still hard, but his arousal wasn’t pressing and he didn’t focus on it. Instead, he revelled in how good it felt that his dad was alive and in his arms.

It was a while later that Stiles found the strength to pull back. When he did, he cupped Dad’s face in his hands and smoothed his thumb over a dried patch of blood, trying to flake it off. He figured he should be grossed out—usually, even just the sight of blood was enough to make him nauseous—but not with his dad. 

“Dad, c’mon, we gotta get you cleaned up,” Stiles said, sliding his hands down Dad’s arms to once again grab his hands. Dad interlaced their fingers together, and Stiles ignored the silly thrill of happiness that shot down his spine when he did. 

He walked backwards, letting his dad stay close. He knew it would be easier than trying to walk separately, and the happy rumbling noise his dad was making made Stiles’ heart feel fit to burst. The stairs were a bit trickier since Dad didn’t seem to want Stiles to go more than a step above him, but after the first three they worked out a system.

It was once they were standing in the bathroom, the harsh light illuminating  _ just _ how dirty Dad was, that everything fell apart. Stiles tilted his head to the side when a horrible realization struck. 

“Well fuck,” Stiles said, with feeling, when he realized Dad was going to have to shower. He let out a very long sigh before he tried asking, “Any chance you can shower alone?”

Dad cocked his head to the side, his nostrils flaring, before he reached out. He managed to grab the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt with the pads of his fingers, drawing him closer so he could nose at Stiles’ hairline. Well. Fuck. 

“We’re...we’re going to have to shower together aren’t we?” Stiles asked, dread pooling in his belly. His dick  _ still _ wasn’t completely soft, and just the thought of seeing his dad naked...yep, he was hard again. “Oh my god,” Stiles mumbled, wrapping a loose arm around Dad’s body and hiding his face in his dad’s neck. Dad made a happy noise, and Stiles chuckled softly as he dug his chin into the man’s neck.

Stiles...Stiles was scared. He still had no idea how much Dad understood, how much of  _ Dad _ was behind the way he was acting and how much of it was the wolf. Even worse, he had no idea how much Dad was going to remember, and that alone made his heartbeat rise. Still, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave his dad covered in blood.

“Alright, daddio,” Stiles mumbled into the warm skin of his neck. “Let’s do this, yeah?”

Stiles stepped back and was happy when Dad seemed alright with it. He was still holding Stiles’ shirt, the fabric stretching more than it should since it was shredded up in the back, and he managed to turn the water on without Dad losing his grip. Stiles took several deep, calming breaths as the bathroom began to heat up from the running water, trying to build up his courage. 

“We gotta get undressed, alright?” Stiles told him, and Dad stared at him for a silent moment before he  _ tore _ Stiles’ shirt down the middle and dropped both pieces onto the ground. Dad moved forward quickly, a claw clicking against the metal of Stiles’ belt, and he quickly grabbed Dad’s wrists. “How about you let me worry about the pants, okay?”

Dad growled unhappily—and Stiles was only distantly concerned that he was able to categorize his Dad’s  _ growls _ —before he started working on his own clothes. Stiles managed to get his pants undone by the time his dad had torn through both his uniform top and undershirt. He left himself in his boxers, stepping forward when Dad whined while clawing at his pants. 

Stiles’ hands shook so bad that it took several tries to unbutton Dad’s khaki’s. His heart was pounding so loud in his chest that it was all he could hear over the roaring of his blood. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he wiggled Dad’s pants down his thighs, keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling and not daring to look down. 

He bent to push them lower, letting them fall once they were past Dad’s knees. The hair on his legs tickled Stiles’ fingers, but he did his best to ignore it. His own dick was still hard, pulsing along with his heart beat. Dad’s hands settled on Stiles’ shoulders, and he quickly straightened back up. 

“Alright. Alright good, pants are off, now we just need to—” Stiles’ voice cut off into a ragged moan when he heard the now familiar ripping of fabric. Fabric that could only be one thing. Dad made a pleased noise, and Stiles’ eyes flicked down, only for the briefest of moments, to see him completely naked. 

Several thoughts filtered through his brain, the most prominent being  _ “Dad’s not circumcised,” _ followed almost immediately by,  _ “Yep, that’s a big fucking dick,” _ and then  _ “Well, I am certainly gay.” _ To save Stiles from doing something stupid and reckless like  _ falling to his knees _ he quickly stepped into the shower, leaving the curtain open behind him as the water hit him in the face.

Dad growled loudly, immediately following Stiles into the shower and crowding against his back. Dad’s hands were gentle where they held onto his hips, just above the waistline of Stiles’ briefs, and his skin was even hotter than the water when he pressed bodily against Stiles.  _ Bodily _ . All of his body. 

“Hngh,” Stiles moaned, dropping his head forward as he raised his hands to the tile in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Dad’s erection was a warm, hard weight that was pressing against the small of his back, and Stiles felt a hundred unnamed emotions whirl around inside his chest. 

Dad’s hands slipped under his waistband and before Stiles could turn around, his claws were shredding the fabric. Stiles’ breath caught up in his throat and he let out a moan when his dick slapped up against his belly, so hard that it was standing straight up. He leant forward a little more, unable to stop himself when the overly sensitive head of his dick dragged against the skin of his stomach and made him shiver. 

It was Dad’s growl that snapped him out of his lust induced haze, and shame burned up his throat. He turned around, ready to push his dad away when their cocks knocked together, both of them hard and leaking, and Stiles let out a small cry. His heart ached even as his entire body yearned for more. 

Dad shuffled closer, close enough that his cock bumped into Stiles’ hip and dragged across his stomach. Stiles made a helpless noise, his own erection pulsing so painfully that it hurt. He stepped back against the cool tile, shivering at how cold it was, and he raised his arms to press his palms flat to Dad’s chest. Dad’s firm, hairy,  _ beautiful _ fucking chest. 

Dear lord. 

Stiles managed to push Dad back enough that he was under the spray of water, and Stiles kept one hand planted in the centre of his chest as the other gently scrubbed at his face. He switched hands, blinding groping for the bar of soap as he stared into his dad’s eyes, unable to look away. 

With a little cry of victory, Stiles brought the bar under the water to get it wet. He took his hand from his dad’s chest so he could lather the soap, and immediately he was moving forward to press their bodies together. Stiles made a high-pitched squeak when Dad pressed their hips together, rolling his entire body against Stiles’ in a way that brought him to the edge, a second away from coming, gasping for air even as he pushed Dad away.

He held him back as he rose onto his toes, curling them in as he locked up his entire body. He couldn’t come, not like this, and just the thought made his eyes burn with tears as he threw his head back against the shower wall. The impact helped take the edge off. Dad made a distressed noise, his hands coming up to gently encircle Stiles’ wrists, though he didn’t try to pull them away or move forward.

Thankful for the reprieve, Stiles gave himself another moment to calm down. He was still so hard that it hurt and his balls were drawn up tightly, but slowly he made it down from the cliff’s edge he’d been brought to. Dad was still whining when Stiles finally opened his eyes, and the noise made Stiles’ heart hurt even worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, guilt eating up his voice. 

With a new resolve, Stiles brought the bar of soap to Dad’s face and gently rubbed it over his skin. The water washed away the suds as they formed. Slowly, the blood cleared away and Stiles moved down to Dad’s neck. Dad tilted his head back, and Stiles tentatively rested his other hand in the hollow of his throat. His breath shuddered out of him when all Dad did was purr, and Stiles’ heart flipped again. 

It wasn’t long before they were finished. Dad stood patiently while Stiles washed his arms, staring at Stiles with eyebrows lowered and his head ducked low. It was almost like Dad was avoiding eye contact, though Stiles had on idea how to settle the unease that was only growing inside of his chest. 

By the time he shut the water off, there was no more blood on Dad’s body, and Dad still wouldn't meet his eye. A horrible feeling was settling in his chest, only growing worse when he watched the lines of worry in his dad’s face deepen. Stiles had always known that one day, somehow, his attraction to his dad was going to ruin everything, but he never could have imagined it would have been like this. 

Dad stood still while Stiles dried him off. He wasn’t reaching for Stiles like he had been, and he let Stiles manoeuvre him this way and that while he worked the towel over his body. He quickly dried himself off as well, thankful that his erection had dropped down to little more than half mast after they got out of the water. 

Stiles led Dad to his room, intent on getting him into bed so he could get away and  _ breathe _ . Not bothering with the fight that would no doubt come from trying to get Dad into a pair of boxers, he went straight for his dad’s bed and lifted the corner of the comforter. 

“C’mon, Dad, it’s time for bed,” Stiles said, and even to himself, his voice sounded off. Too heavy, after everything that had happened. 

Dad walked up to him, head still ducked down, and he didn’t stop until his chest was hesitantly brushing Stiles’ arm. Stiles let out a breath that was as much heartache as it was relief, and he tilted his head back so Dad could get to his throat. The purring sounded again, and Stiles laughed softly when Dad snuffled at his skin. 

He shrieked when Dad suddenly lifted him up, reaching around Stiles to wrap his arms around his waist. Stiles kicked his legs out, his heart racing with adrenaline until Dad threw him onto the bed. His breath was punched out of him when he landed on the mattress, and before he could breathe in Dad was already there, pulling the comforter out from under Stiles and crowding against his back.

An arm wrapped around his waist, and as Stiles caught his breath Dad spooned up behind him. The dusting of stubble on his chin tickled the back of Stiles’ neck as Dad’s hand spread out across his belly, the blankets somehow ending up covering them. 

“Wha—” Stiles didn’t get to finish his sentence before Dad was rumbling out a growl, spooning even closer. His dick was pressed into Stiles’ back again, heavy and thick but not as hard as it had been in the shower. It was barely a comfort. “Alright. Okay. We’re sleeping together. Sure. That’s more than fine, we’ve done this before. Not  _ this _ , definitely not  _ this _ , but close enough, right? This is totally fine. Just a sleepover. Nothing to it.  _ Nothing to it _ .”

Stiles knew that he was just trying to convince himself, and even though it wasn’t working, chattering was helping to calm his anxious heart. This was so much, almost too much, for Stiles to handle. It was almost worse than the shower, because Dad was rubbing small circles into Stiles’ belly with the tips of his fingers—which Stiles realized were no longer tipped with claws. 

Dad didn’t say anything, but he rumbled louder, and Stiles did his best to settle. He didn’t think there was any way he going to be able to sleep, not with the whirling emotions that were fighting for dominance within his chest. It was all too much, and Stiles felt unbelievably raw, like someone had reached inside his chest and tore him open to reveal everything that he carried in his heart.

Even with the guilt and the shame and the fucking  _ hurt _ that was making his chest ache, Dad was warm along his back. The arm wrapped around him was a comforting weight that stilled a part of Stiles that felt the constant need to move, and the way Dad was breathing warm air against the back of his neck helped to quiet his spinning thoughts. 

Within one breath and the next, sleep tugged Stiles under as he sunk into the mattress.

* * *

When Stiles woke up, the first thing he noticed was how warm he was. The body pillow he was curled around was radiating heat, and Stiles shuffled closer for more. He must have kicked his comforter off, because his back was cold from the temperature of the room, and he pressed more of his body into the heat he was laying against.

“Kiddo,” the word was whispered, barely filtering in through Stiles’ sleep haze. He made a noise, something like a protest, and scrunched his nose when the hair on his pillow tickled his forehead. Wait. Hair on his...

Stiles startled back, but there was arm tucked under his waist that didn’t let him go anywhere. He didn’t open his eyes, terrified of what he would see on his dad’s face when he did. Instead, he did his very best to slowly move his hips away from where he’d been digging his morning wood into what was probably his dad’s thigh.

“Kiddo,” Dad said again, and there was something in his tone that made it impossible for Stiles to keep his eyes closed. He blinked them open, slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. It had to be sometime during the day, but Dad’s blackout blinds were still closed and keeping the room dark. 

Slowly, slower than was probably necessary, Stiles raised his eyes, tracking up the miles of freckled, hairy skin until he reached his dad’s face. Stiles’ breath got caught up in his throat with the way his dad was looking at him, his eyes glowing red so brightly that Stiles had to squint his eyes to look before they dimmed.

“I am  _ so _ sorry,” Dad said, and his voice was  _ wrecked _ . It made Stiles’ heart hurt. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I...I can’t believe—look, I’m—”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Stiles mumbled, and fuck, his eyes were burning again. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn't...I shouldn’t have done that. I know it wasn’t fair, that you weren’t really  _ you _ and that it was...it was so wrong to do and—”

“Kiddo, no, no you didn’t do anything wrong. I would  _ never _ have forced you, I swear to you, but all I could smell...it doesn’t even matter. The wolf took it as permission, and  _ consent _ and I’m so sick that I—”

“ _ Daddy _ ,” Stiles’ voice broke as a tear spilled over, his heart aching as he tripped over his words even as Dad’s made no sense. “What? It was me,  _ me _ who wanted you and I’m so sorry that I let that, that I, that I did what I did and—”

“Stiles,” Dad said, his voice startling clear. “Kiddo, did you say  _ you _ wanted me?”

Stiles nodded, and he squeezed his eyes closed so tightly that spots danced across the darkness. “I’m so sorry that I—”

“Kiddo, I’m apologizing for wanting  _ you _ .”

Stiles’ brain screeched to a halt as Dad’s words penetrated the cloud of shame that was making it impossible to stop the tears from falling. He got a hand between them so he could rub at his eyes, and he blinked up at his dad through blurred vision. 

“You...you want me?” Stiles asked, his voice incredibly small, hardly even a whisper, but Dad heard him and his eyes flashed a brilliant red. 

He growled, and the hand around Stiles’ waist hauled him even closer, Dad’s hand sliding down to the small of his back and pressing his hips forward. Stiles moaned when it pressed his erection against Dad’s skin, and Dad’s purring got louder. “Baby, I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life. My wolf...that was all it knew. It knew you, and how much I love you, and it didn’t care about anything else.”

“Daddy,” Stiles said again, still quiet, “I thought I was taking advantage of you. I felt so bad, forcing my feelings and my arousal on you, and I felt horrible for  _ liking _ it when you touched me.”

“I always want to touch you,” Dad said, his other hand coming up to cup Stiles’ jaw. Stiles nuzzled it, a mirror of something they had done more than once last night, and by the look on Dad’s face, he knew that the man remembered. “I love you so much, kiddo. More than I should, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And my wolf...they thought you were  _ ours _ , because they smelt how much you wanted us too.”

“Is that why you...in the shower, why you were so—” Stiles didn’t know what words to use to describe what had happened, and he trailed off quietly. A pained look crossed over his dad’s face, and Stiles trailed his hand over his dad’s chest in apology.

“Yes. The wolf didn’t realize that you didn’t want us—”

“I did!” Stiles said quickly. “I  _ do _ want you.”

“Then why did you stink like fear?” 

Stiles ducked his head, breaking eye contact as he pushed back the emotions that flooded him just thinking back to the shower. “I almost came,” he admitted, and Dad growled again. “I was horrified that I was getting off when you had no idea what was going on. I felt so bad, and when you, uh, rolled into me I just about came.”

“ _ Baby _ ,” John groaned, and the endearment, said like  _ that _ , made Stiles’ dick pulse. He rolled his hips, just a little, and John’s hand slid down to cover his ass. “Really? You were that close?” Stiles made an embarrassed sort of noise even as he nodded, pressing his face into the warm skin of John’s pec. “Fuck that is—” his voice trailed off into another growl, and his voice was all wolf when he said, “ _ Kiddo _ .”

When their lips met, Stiles made a helpless noise as heat surged through his entire body. Dad’s lips were chapped against his own, and his thicker stubble scratched Stiles skin. He rolled forward, helped by Dad lifting him until he could straddle his dad’s waist, his legs stretched as he planted his knees beside Dad’s thighs. With their hips pressed together, everything felt like so much  _ more _ , and Stiles moaned brokenly. 

The first swipe of his dad’s tongue into his mouth made Stiles groan, and he gave back as well as he could. He only had a handful of experience but he did his best to keep up, sucking on Dad’s tongue and biting at his lips. His hands roamed over Dad’s chest and his chest hair tickled his palms. Stiles’ fingers followed the trail of hair lower, skipping down Dad’s stomach and pressing into the skin.

Dad broke away from the kiss, breathless, and Stiles sat up a little so he could look down at him. Dad was  _ gorgeous _ , and Stiles impossibly fell more in love. They were both still naked from the night before, but Stiles ignored the feeling of their erections knocking together to focus on the way his dad looked, panting and spread out and all his. 

Dad’s face was smoothed out, none of the lines of worry that had been etched into his face after their shower. Instead, Dad’s lips were twisted into the softest smile that Stiles had ever seen, his eyes glowing dimly. Stiles trailed his hands back up to dance them along Dad’s jaw, liking the bit of softness he could feel with the way Dad had his chin pressed against his chest to stare back up at Stiles. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t loo—” 

“You’re fucking  _ beautiful _ ,” Stiles breathed, letting his fingers dance over the width of his dad’s shoulders and back onto his chest, his thumb gliding down the dip between his pecs. Dad moaned when Stiles thumbed at his nipples, more than enjoying the way hair curled around them. 

He bought his hands back together, once again following the trail of hair the led down his belly. Now, though, he watched, liking the way his fingers dug into the bit of pudge on Dad’s gut. He spread his hands wide, his long fingers spanning his belly. He was so aroused, but it wasn’t what he was focusing on. 

Rather, he was trying to commit Dad’s body to memory, tickling his fingers up his dad’s sides and grinning broadly when it made Dad laugh. His dick was aching, and when he looked down the head of dad’s dick was peaking out of his foreskin, wet with precome. 

“Baby,” Dad said, his eyes crinkled with happiness, and Stiles leaned down to kiss him as he smoothed his thumbs across his cheeks. “Baby, I love you so much.”

Stiles pressed the words back into his mouth before he pulled back. He scooted back enough that he was seated on the meat of his dad’s thighs, his own stretched pleasantly wide. Dad’s dick bobbed when Stiles dragged his nails down Dad’s stomach, and he made a mental note for later. 

“I've wanted you for so long,” Stiles whispered. He couldn’t bring himself to feel the shame that had clouded his arousal for so many years. 

He settled his hands in the crease of Dad’s thighs, pressing down and watching as it made Dad’s dick bounce up before he slowly trailed his hands higher. His heart was beating with nothing other than excitement, and his mouth was hanging open with how heavily he was breathing. This was so much, was  _ everything _ , and Stiles never wanted to stop. 

When Stiles  _ finally _ touched Dad’s dick, the man moaned so loudly that Stiles felt it vibrate through him. His hands fisted the sheets under him, and Stiles heard the tearing of fabric and laughed when he saw that Dad’s claws had shredded the sheets. He wrapped his hand loosely around his dad’s erection, marvelling at how warm the skin was. 

Slowly, he dragged his hand down, unable to pull his eyes away when it revealed more of his dad’s dick. It was flushed red, so dark it was almost purple, and the head was glistening with precome that kept spurting from the tip. There was a thick vein running down the side, and Stiles could feel the way it was pulsing against his fingers. Stiles dragged the palm of his free hand over the wet skin and raised it to his mouth, breathing in his Dad’s musk before darting his tongue out to lick it up.

Dad groaned again, throwing his head back. The muscles in his neck were straining, and he was panting. Slowly, Stiles dragged his hand back up, tightening his grip on his next down stroke. Dad’s balls were hairy—Dad’s  _ everything _ was hairy—and Stiles rolled them in his palm. The skin was wrinkled and tight, already pulled up close to this body and  _ so warm _ , and it made Stiles smile. 

Stiles was so hard it hurt, and his hips were making small, aborted thrusts into nothing, but he was too focused on the way his dad felt in his hand and the way he was arching up from the bed. He built up a rhythm, keeping his grip firm as he jacked his dad off. He used his free hand to play with the head, thumbing across the slit and collecting more and more precome to taste.

“Daddy,” Stiles said softly, his heart beating, and on the next downstroke Dad was coming, his hips arching off the bed as his cock jumped in Stiles’ hand, spurting ropes of semen up onto his chest and all across his belly, covering himself in his spend. He growled through it and Stiles stroked him faster, watching intently as come dribbled out of his Dad’s dick. 

Stiles followed him off, caught up in the moment and how good he felt at making his dad feel good, and before he could even get a hand around himself he was losing it, dick jumping wildly and shooting come everywhere. Stiles leaned forward with a groan, rutting into the hand that wasn’t holding his dad’s dick and directing the rest of his orgasm onto Dad’s body, their come pooling together on Dad’s stomach, a thick glob matting into Dad’s bush of pubic hair.

Dad’s hands left the sheets to pull him forward, one hooking around the back of Stiles’ neck and pulling him into a desperate kiss. Their teeth clacked together but Stiles’ didn’t care, riding out the rest of his orgasm. It felt so good, pleasure rolling through Stiles’ body even after he’d finished coming, his entire body shaking as Dad kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. 

It was all so much, and he came down slowly. Dad’s other hand was stroking up and down his back, long, sweeping motions that helped ground Stiles. Dad’s dick was starting to go soft in Stiles’ hand and he grabbed hold of Dad’s hip to steady himself as he finally pulled back.

“Holy fucking shit,” Dad said, and Stiles threw his head back with a laugh. He steadied himself with a hand on Dad’s belly then raised it to his mouth to clean off their come once he was sitting back on Dad’s thighs. “ _ Kiddo _ , you’re going to kill me.”

“Was that okay?” Stiles asked, a little bead of insecurity curling up inside his chest as he dropped his hand down from his mouth.

“Baby, that was  _ more _ than okay. That was fucking awesome. You’re so sexy,” Dad told him, and Stiles watched with wide eyes when he dragged the back of his thumb through the mess on his chest before bringing it to his own mouth. Stiles groaned, leaning back down for a kiss and licking the come right out of Dad’s mouth. 

He lost himself in the kiss, moaning as two of Dad’s fingers pushed against his bottom lip, wet with their come. Stiles sucked them into his mouth, pulling back enough that he could watch Dad’s face as he sucked them clean. They continued to kiss around Dad’s fingers, and while it was unbelievably hot, his dick didn’t do more than give a weak twitch of interest. 

They kissed longer, slowly, sloppy kisses filled with too much tongue and not enough technique, but neither of them cared. Stiles had never felt so happy or carefree, and he rode the feeling of joy as Dad continued to kiss him. When he pulled back, it was with a noisy peck that made Dad chuckle.

“I really like come,” Stiles said simply, scooping up a glob to feed to Dad. Dad hummed agreeingly as he sucked on Stiles’ finger. “And so do you. Fucking  _ awesome _ .” 

Dad’s hand grabbed his hip, wet with more come and Stiles’ saliva, and he dragged it up Stiles’ side, his other hand spreading an entire mess of come up Stiles’ thigh. Stiles snorted when Dad’s nostrils flared, and Stiles pulled his hand back to stroke his thumb over Dad’s jaw. “We smell good?”

“We smell  _ great _ ,” Dad said, his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. “You smell like  _ mine _ , and I definitely smell like yours.”

“That’s also fucking awe—” Stiles yawned loudly, his jaw cracking as his sentence was cut off. His shoulders slumped with post-orgasm-sleepiness, and he caught both of Dad’s hands in his own to twine their fingers together. “You know what else would be fucking awesome?” Stiles said, smiling when Dad hummed, “A post-orgasm nap.”

“A nap, huh?” Dad asked, rumbling happily when Stiles manoeuvred himself so he was laid out over his chest, completely uncaring of the mess or how they were going to stick together once it all dried. “I could go for a nap.”

Stiles yawned again, nuzzling a dry patch of skin before pressing a kiss to it and pillowing his head on Dad’s pec. “Good, because I’m already napping.”

Dad laughed again, his arms wrapping around Stiles’ waist and settling on his ass. Stiles wiggled a little, and Dad groped him. “You’re already napping, huh?”

“Yep, now catch up and go to sleep, old man,” Stiles teased, closing his eyes as he really settled in, more tired than he’d realized. 

“Old man!” Dad protested, one of the hands that had been kneading his ass lifting to swat it playfully. “When you wake back up, I’ll  _ show _ you old man.”

“You better,” Stiles said, playfully nipping Dad's chest in retaliation to the swat. “Now seriously, I’m trying to get my nap on.”

Dad hummed, though he didn’t say anything else. He shifted to grab the comforter, and Stiles made a happy noise when they were covered back up. The room was still dark, and Dad was so warm. He was even more comfortable than he’d been the night before, and without the mess of emotions making his chest ache, it was easy to settle in and let himself enjoy being cuddled up with Dad in a way he had always wanted. 

Sleep was pulling at him, and he managed to say one last “I love you,” before he was pulled under, warm and safe and feeling so, so happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!   
> [my dreamwidth](https://lavenderlotion.dreamwidth.org/) and my [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


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